


To be Alone With You

by triggerswaggiehavoc



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Government Conspiracy, M/M, Military, On the Run, Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-03 22:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerswaggiehavoc/pseuds/triggerswaggiehavoc
Summary: Of all the rotten luck in all the rotten cities on this entire rotten planet, Seungkwan thinks he must have the worst of it all. As if it weren’t already bad enough to lose everything and have to skip town in the middle of the night.





	To be Alone With You

**Author's Note:**

> if you can't tell by the title, the song i used was "to be alone"!!

Of all the rotten luck in all the rotten cities on this entire rotten planet, Seungkwan thinks he must have the worst of it all. As if it weren’t already bad enough to lose everything and have to skip town in the middle of the night. Beside him, Mingyu groans and rolls over, pushes his face further into Seungkwan’s back. It’s too hot.

“Cut it out,” he whispers, careful not to let his voice a decibel above the sound of the leaves shaking in the wind above them. His elbow finds Mingyu’s side easy enough and digs in.

“Ouch,” Mingyu yelps, quiet but still too loud, way too loud, and Seungkwan slaps a hand over his mouth. After a second, Mingyu taps the back of his hand to ask for him to move it. “What?” The brush of the wind drowns it out over the few inches it has to reach Seungkwan’s ears.

“You’re too close,” Seungkwan says. “Move over.”

“There’s no more space,” Mingyu says. “And I’m cold.”

“Well, I’m hot.”

“Tough.” Then Mingyu pushes himself against Seungkwan again, deliberate this time, and in seconds, he’s back to sleep, soft snores echoing off the branches of the bush they’re under. Seungkwan holds in his sigh until it becomes a yawn and closes his eyes. So much for sleeping.

When he first started to see militia men strolling through the streets months ago, he already had a feeling it would come to something like this. It started very slowly—a few every now and then, walking alone, stopping by the shops like customers, maybe even buying a small loaf of bread or an apple sometimes. He checked his house for recording equipment the day he saw a line of them walking together down the sidewalk, eerily in step. There was a microphone in the ceiling light of the kitchen. He’d figured that he was already on a list somewhere, people the government wanted to keep tabs on, but he’d been hoping for a little more time.

He met Joshua last a week before he disappeared, in the corner booth of a café that hadn’t gotten unfriendly yet. “I’m going to look for a new pair of shoes,” Joshua told him, voice low. Code for running away. Seungkwan raised his eyebrows.

“Already?”

“I think,” Joshua said, glancing around every now and then, “it might be hard to find a good pair.” His attention was especially dedicated to the candles he’d pushed to the side of the table, the barista at the back. “If I don’t do it now.” Anyone could be listening from anywhere. Joshua was always careful.

“Well, maybe that’s a good idea,” Seungkwan said, carefully sipping his cup of coffee. “Your old shoes are getting a little worn out.”

“And I’d suggest you start looking for a new pair soon, too.” Joshua’s eyes were hard on him. “Just in case.”

“Maybe,” Seungkwan said. “I should probably get some socks first.” Code for yes. Joshua grinned at him with that gentle charm he always seemed to have, even when it felt like the walls were closing in. That smile could put Seungkwan at ease with a knife against his neck.

“Well then,” Joshua said, checking his watch (a fake—he’d removed the battery ages ago to make space for a small blade and a bundle of matches), “guess I’d better get going.” He patted Seungkwan on the shoulder, held tight for a long minute before letting go. “Hope I can show you my new shoes next time.” Then he was gone.

Seungkwan had originally intended on staying back ten days after Joshua’s departure to get his things in order, but he woke just shy of midnight to the smell of fire after only three. He shoved as much as he could into the bag beneath his bed, everything important, and slid out the back cellar door into the black of the night. He tried not to look at the smoke filling the sky while he walked off. No time to risk getting emotional. Ever since the beginning, he knew he’d end up having to leave, to disappear without a word just like this. That was doable. He’d run through it in his head plenty. But he’d never dared to indulge in the nightmare fantasy that he would have Mingyu with him when he did.

“Seungkwan?” Mingyu’s voice had called out from the distance, way too loud under the stars. It bounced off all the houses and the streets way too much. In the distance, Seungkwan could make out Mingyu’s silhouette approaching, and he cursed.

“What is he doing out right now?” he whispered. Quickly, he broke to the side and started at a brisker pace, but to his deepest horror, he heard the sound of footsteps breaking into a run behind him.

“Hey!” Mingyu shouted, and Seungkwan broke into a sprint himself then. A colossal idiot. He always knew Mingyu was one, and he definitely didn’t need the proof right now.

“Be quiet,” he whisper-screamed back, even though he knew Mingyu wouldn’t hear it. Unfortunately, Seungkwan was never a very strong runner, and Mingyu, with the advantage of too-long legs, was gaining on him fast. Mingyu was always good at the most useless things, never anything Seungkwan would have liked him to be good at. Things like shutting his mouth or minding his business.

“Wait up!” Mingyu yelled, painfully loud, just moments before crashing into Seungkwan at full force and sending both of them rolling across the ground. Just before their inertia ran them to a halt, Seungkwan clapped a hand over Mingyu’s mouth.

“Be quiet,” he whispered, eyeing the end of the street for anything like flashlights or footsteps. “You’re gonna get us both killed.” He looked into Mingyu’s eyes a second too long. They were wide and damp and disarming. Not a good sign. “You need to go back home and pretend you never saw me, alright? I died in that fire.”

“But,” Mingyu managed, working his lips around to fit through the gaps between Seungkwan’s fingers, “you didn’t.” His breath was hot. “You’re alive.” And he was always so fucking stupid.

“As far as you know,” Seungkwan said, shoving Mingyu off him and rising to his feet, eyes darting everywhere, “I’m not.” With one more look around, he started hurrying again, toward the nearest wooded patch to give him some good cover while he got out. Only a few seconds had gone by before he heard, to his immeasurable dismay, clumsy footsteps clomping along behind.

“Where are you going?” Mingyu asked.

“I’m begging you,” Seungkwan said, whipping around to find Mingyu a little too close, “to stop talking.” He leaned back to stare into Mingyu’s eyes, ears perked and alert for any off-beat sounds. His own breaths were jarringly loud. “I’m dead,” he repeated, voice low, pressing a fist into Mingyu’s chest. “You never saw me, and you don’t know what happened.” Mingyu stood there breathing, almost silent, chest pushing Seungkwan’s fist back in tiny increments. “Go home and go to sleep.” He turned again to leave—he had a feeling things were about to get dicey—but Mingyu caught him by the wrist too quickly. His grip was always annoyingly tight.

“You’re going to where Joshua is,” Mingyu said, “aren’t you?” As much as Seungkwan tried to pull his hand free, it wouldn’t budge. Mingyu squeezed a little harder.

Mingyu was never involved in their scene. He was just a normal guy, living life, not thinking about much at all. Always, though, he’d had a soft spot for Joshua. Seungkwan thought it was strange he never asked about Joshua’s sudden disappearance, thought maybe he finally understood the things he shouldn’t ask about. Evidently not.

“No.”

“You’re lying,” Mingyu whispered. “Take me with you.”

“So we can both die?” Seungkwan whipped around to face him. “You—”

Footsteps. Quiet, but coming, and coming quickly. At the end of the road, he could make out a few mangled shadows beneath the streetlights, waxing larger as they neared the sidewalks where he and Mingyu stood. Of all the rotten luck. He tugged his arm and threw a glance back at Mingyu before turning around again, shoulders square to the forest.

“Fine,” he whispered. “Don’t say a word. Just run.”

So they ran.

And now Seungkwan is stuck with Mingyu until one of them dies. Maybe even both. The way things are going, it’s probably going to be Mingyu, and it’s not going to be by the government catching them.

Mingyu still snores, rooted in place under the bush they hid beneath in the night despite Seungkwan having already woken up, eaten, and re-packed everything into his bag. It’s hard enough to ration what little he’s got between the two of them, but Mingyu has no concept of reservation, so after three days, things are already looking grim. The thought of killing him for food is unsavory, but it might not be the worst thing. Just as Seungkwan begins to think about which pocket he put the knife into, Mingyu’s eye pops open.

“What?” he says. “You’re staring.”

“Nothing,” Seungkwan tells him. He slings his bag over his shoulder and stands. “Come on. We need to keep moving.”

Mingyu grunts, but gathers himself and stands up without complaining. There’s an outrageous wave of bedhead in his hair that would make Seungkwan laugh if he weren’t so busy being pissed off and terrified. Without doing anything to fix it, Mingyu pulls his shirt down over his stomach and starts walking, slow and then fast, too fast. Those god damn long legs.

“Slow down,” Seungkwan says, heaving. “My legs aren’t as long as yours.”

“I thought we needed to keep moving,” Mingyu drawls, very obnoxiously. He throws a half-glance at Seungkwan over his shoulder, and he is the most infuriating man ever born.

“I’m leading the way,” Seungkwan says, “since I know where we’re going.” Mingyu slows until they’re shoulder to shoulder. They would be, at least, if Seungkwan had a few extra inches on him. “If you leave me behind, you’ll just get lost and die.”

Mingyu snorts. “I won’t get lost.”

“Oh, won’t you?” Seungkwan points ahead of them. “Which way did we come from, then? Which way is north?”

“North?” Mingyu slows to a stop, and Seungkwan pauses beside him. For a few moments, they stand still, breeze whipping the hair on Mingyu’s head around until it nearly looks normal. Then, very annoyingly, he stretches his arm out, straight north. “That way.” When Seungkwan rolls his eyes, Mingyu grins. “See, I told you. I know my directions.”

“Fine, then,” Seungkwan says, hiking a few large steps to put some distance between them. “Walk as fast as you want and go by yourself. I don’t care.” Mingyu makes the gap back up in seconds.

“You care,” he says.

“I don’t.”

“And I don’t want to be by myself.”

Seungkwan holds his lips tight a long time. Behind his forehead, there’s a mounting pressure, like the steam building up in a kettle those final seconds before it starts to scream. “Then walk slower,” he mutters. Humming idly, Mingyu plods along beside him.

Mingyu was never involved in the antigovernment movement the way Seungkwan and Joshua were, but he was always around anyway. He had a weird attachment to Joshua—maybe Seungkwan couldn’t really call it weird, since he had a similar feeling—so he was always sticking by him even when he obviously shouldn’t have been. It’s not surprising that Mingyu wanted to know where Joshua disappeared to, but that doesn’t make it piss Seungkwan off any less that he forced his way into coming along.

“You’re glaring at me again,” Mingyu says. While he talks, he uses Seungkwan’s knife to clear skin off the bird he caught for them to eat. One lucky throw of one stupid rock, and now he’s feeling like he’s carrying some of the weight of keeping them alive. Seungkwan turns his attention back to the small fire he’s stoking up and frowns.

“I’m not glaring.” In the wake of the sun setting around them, everything turns blue but the fire’s budding embers. Even so, Seungkwan can make out Mingyu’s every glance in his periphery, the subtle way he makes himself smaller, huddles closer to Seungkwan’s side.

“You are,” he says. Mingyu tosses each feather into a pile he’s started on the ground when he’s done with it, a sound like a sparse line of raindrops coming through a leak in the roof. “I’m not stupid.”

Seungkwan almost laughs out loud. He starts to—takes a breath in to get ready—but never lets the first laugh fly. Having Mingyu sulky will only make him more obnoxious, and they still have to cook and eat. Besides, it’s too dangerous to make any sound that might reach past the small grove of trees they’ve enclosed themselves in. Mingyu stops his hands and stares hard at Seungkwan.

“Did you just almost laugh?” A few beats of silence go by, and Seungkwan doesn’t answer. “What the hell is funny?”

Seungkwan stokes the fire a little more, watches a stray spark float off and wither into black. “If you weren’t stupid, you wouldn’t be here right now.” A meandering breeze dampens the fire, but it works its way back up. “You’d be sitting in your house doing whatever, not thinking about anything.”

Mingyu sighs and starts plucking feathers again. “Wouldn’t that be stupider?” he asks. “The government is… Well, I don’t really know, but isn’t there a reason you guys left?” The feathers piling up on the ground scatter in the wind. “So it would be stupid to stay.”

“But you don’t even understand,” Seungkwan grumbles. “Joshua and I have, for a long time… We were on a list, you know?” He blows on the fire, and it grows barely enough to be noticed. “They burned my house down.”

“I know, so—”

“Listen. You were never on the list.” A few feathers dance a little closer to the flame over the ground. Seungkwan wonders how many more Mingyu has to pull out. “They wouldn’t have hurt you. And they probably know you wouldn’t have left alone.” He looks back at Mingyu, a strip of smoke floating between them. He can’t quite see Mingyu’s eyes anymore. “So they know I didn’t die, and now they’re after us.”

“They might not realize,” Mingyu says.

“They always realize.”

It’s quiet again as Mingyu plucks the last of the feathers from the bird’s body and pierces it on a stick to hold over the flame. The fire is small, but it gets to work quickly. Seungkwan has never smelled anything like the scent in the air now, and he hopes the fire is low enough that it doesn’t shine through any of the trees. He hopes the wind will send the feathers flying everywhere, and the ashes blend in with the dirt.

After an eternity of rotating over the fire, the bird seems done enough. Mingyu prods it a few times with his finger before taking a bite, nodding, and passing it to Seungkwan. It tastes burnt and terrible, but food is food, and now is no time to be picky. He’s already missed the chance to be particular about his company. Mingyu sniffs loud enough to shake the trees, but he doesn’t say anything for a while. Seungkwan squints at him.

“Thanks,” he says. Instantly, Mingyu brightens. What a kid.

“You’re welcome.” Small smile on his lips, he leans in a little toward Seungkwan. “It’s not so bad having me around,” he whispers. Seungkwan snorts, and Mingyu’s smile evaporates. “Hey, if I hadn’t killed that bird, we wouldn’t have any food.”

“If you hadn’t come along, my rations would’ve lasted me.”

“But you would’ve been alone.”

“Better than being alone with you.”

For a long time, Mingyu frowns at him, meager light from the fire flickering around his eyes. Then he grinds his heel into the remains of the fire and bathes the two of them in darkness, punctuated by wisps of gray smoke. Seungkwan watches his silhouette in the dark, a large shadow slouching to the ground and lying flat, tucking itself under the closest shrubbery. Before long, Mingyu’s breaths come, even with sleep. Seungkwan stays sitting upright and fans the air until the smoke clears away.

“Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” Mingyu asks. His voice barely tops the sound of the river running by them. Seungkwan wishes he wouldn’t walk with such heavy steps. The splashes he’s making are huge.

“Because I know where we’re going,” Seungkwan says, “so you don’t need to.”

“I want to know.”

“Too bad.”

There’s been too much noise in the sky lately. The air around them is quiet, but Seungkwan can feel something moving around above them. It’s not unreasonable to think they could’ve put something on Mingyu; maybe he had made it on a watch list after all, simply by his association with Seungkwan and Joshua. Seungkwan isn’t sure whether what they’ve got on him is listening or following, though he guesses by the fact they haven’t been caught yet that it’s listening. It’s all over if he slips where they’re heading, but even if he doesn’t, it’s only a matter of time before they’ve heard all they need to hear to figure out where they are. There’s a good chance he’s let them hear too much already.

“You don’t trust me,” Mingyu says, almost a question but not quite. His eyes are sad and unnervingly puppyish when Seungkwan meets them.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan says, “I don’t.” Water sloshes around their feet, and Seungkwan wonders how much of their words Mingyu’s tag is picking up. If it’s somewhere in his shoes, it can’t be much, but Seungkwan has a suspicion it’s somewhere else.

“Why not?” Mingyu groans.

“Just don’t.”

Seungkwan clambers over the opposite riverbank and sits on a rock to watch Mingyu come the rest of the way. A deep frown decorates his face while he looks down at the fish zipping by his feet. He stiffens, then poises himself before sticking both hands into the stream. A fish comes back out of the water with them, and he flings its squirming body past Seungkwan to let it writhe on the dirt, too far from the water to wriggle its way back in.

Mingyu hauls himself ashore and clomps a few steps past Seungkwan to retrieve the fish. Seungkwan waits for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. Probably for the best. When Seungkwan approaches, Mingyu extends his hand to silently ask for the knife, then whacks the fish’s head off and starts flaking away the scales. The noise is terrible; Seungkwan gets to work stirring up a fire to distract himself from it. As he does, he notices how low the supply of matches has become, and he can tell from here the knife is so much duller than it started. Something tightens in his stomach.

For a long time, Mingyu doesn’t say a word. It’s a nice change of pace not to have to worry about his loud voice giving them away, but he only wishes it weren’t at the same time Mingyu is generating that atrocious sound with the scales. Seungkwan winces every time one detaches from the fish’s flesh and falls to the ground. Without warning, the noise stops, and he spends a few moments relishing its absence before looking over to see why.

Mingyu stands upright, pants dropped to his ankles as he sidesteps out of them. He holds them up, soaked completely to the knee, and it makes Seungkwan’s legs feel itchy to think his own trousers look the same way. Mingyu catches his eyes with a sideways glance before throwing the pants to the ground and laying them flat. A tightness wrings Seungkwan’s throat at the sight of Mingyu’s legs, long and bare, but he gets his mind off it by lunging for the pants. On his knees, Mingyu stares at him as he begins to rifle through them.

“What are you doing?” Mingyu whisper-shouts, hands unsure whether to ball into fists or fly up in outrage. He reaches toward the fish and knife again but stops himself, opting instead to crawl to Seungkwan.

“Nothing.” Seungkwan runs his hands along the seams methodically, feeling for anything that sticks out. He doesn’t know how a device would’ve made its way into here, but his brain demands he check. It wouldn’t be the most unimaginable thing. He’s cleared one leg and moved on to the zipper before Mingyu reaches out to grab him by the wrists.

“How little do you trust me?” he asks, voice low, and Seungkwan feels like choking. There is a hint of pain in his eyes, a small quiver to his lower lip. His grip is too tight.

“Let go,” he whispers.

“No.”

“Mingyu.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Mingyu says, thumbs pressing hard into the weak parts of Seungkwan’s wrists. “I just want to help.”

“It would help,” Seungkwan says, “if you let me go.”

“Tell me what you’re doing.” When Seungkwan doesn’t respond, he leans in closer. “Tell me why you don’t want me to know anything.”

Seungkwan forces his hands up to grab Mingyu by the collar and pull him down. Everything smells like sweat and grime, and his lips are almost close enough to brush Mingyu’s ear. “You’re not the one I want to keep in the dark,” he whispers, fingers locking up in the folds of Mingyu’s shirt. “Let my fucking hands go.”

Silently, Mingyu unclenches his fists, but he keeps his eyes on Seungkwan while he combs the remainder of the pair of pants for something, anything. No dice. He’s sure there’s got to be something somewhere, some type of microphone or something, but no matter how much he rifles through the pair of pants, nothing makes itself known. Hands damp from searching, he tosses them to the side and refocuses his efforts on the fire. He can feel Mingyu’s eyes on him still, but he doesn’t dare look over. The shadow of his exposed legs still haunts Seungkwan on the back of his neck. After a while, that awful scratching sound starts back up.

They eat without speaking. Seungkwan doesn’t meet Mingyu’s eyes for more than a second or two because he doesn’t want to hear another question. The flavor of the fish is better than the bird, but not by much. Somehow, they always manage to burn everything.

After they’ve finished eating and stamped the fire out, they crawl under some nearby brush to go to sleep. It’s getting hotter lately, and the smell of sweat alone is enough to keep Seungkwan awake all night. Before long, Mingyu’s breathing deepens as well, and he burrows closer in the bare coolness of the night, pressing his chest to Seungkwan’s back. All of Seungkwan’s senses sting with overstimulation, but he’s too tired to push himself away. He lies there, eyes half open, staring at the outline of blades of grass bending barely in the breeze.

A few days later, Seungkwan is beyond certain they’re being tailed. At the back of his vision, he can spot something darting around in the shadows. His resting heartrate is well past livable levels, but he walks forward like usual. Mingyu doesn’t seem to notice anything. He’s less chatty recently, but otherwise the same as ever, taking too-big steps with his too-long legs and foraging for food in the corners of everything they pass.

His stomach growls, and when it does, Seungkwan hears something that sounds like a branch breaking behind them. Without a word, he grabs Mingyu by the wrist and tugs him to the side. Leaves rustle a way they shouldn’t, something other than wind.

“What are you—”

Seungkwan claps a hand over Mingyu’s mouth and pushes him against the trunk of a tree. From this angle, he can’t see nearly as much as he needs to figure out a plan, but his heart is pounding too hard in his ears for him to focus on the helplessness he should be feeling. Looking at Mingyu’s wide eyes, his whole body goes stone stiff and alive with electricity at the same time.

Slowly, he reaches for the knife in his bag. Feeling the blade with his thumb, he can tell it’s too dull to do much damage, but he hopes it’ll be enough for right now. He tries to listen for footsteps, any sound, but nothing reaches past the sound of his own body threatening to shut down. A pang of hunger strikes him, and he wonders how he’s even standing. For a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut. They spring back open when he hears a swishing sound and feels Mingyu slip out from under his palm.

Everything is moving too fast. There were no birds before, but now there are hundreds, millions, flitting across Seungkwan’s vision no matter where he looks. He can see Mingyu’s body moving among the trees, see another silhouette twisting around near him, but nothing is clear. His fist locks in a death grip around the handle of the blade, and after another second spent breathing, he lunges forward and starts swinging.

Somebody yelps, and it doesn’t sound like Mingyu. Seungkwan pounces in the direction of the cry and flails more, curling his fists and punching instead, edge of the knife digging into the curl of his finger. His eyes are closed and open at the same time, but he doesn’t see anything until the trees around them begin to shake. Above, a large black helicopter hovers close to the canopy. He feels like screaming. Before he can, a heavy arm is wrapping around him and carrying him off, deeper into the dark and the green and the heat.

Blood soaks through the strip of cloth wrapped around Seungkwan’s knuckles too quickly. Mingyu rips another strip of his shirt away with his teeth and takes Seungkwan’s hand to tie it up again. Seungkwan tries to shake his hands away, but his head is too light, and Mingyu’s grip is too firm.

“Enough,” he says. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Mingyu pulls the cloth tight before tying it in a sloppy knot, and Seungkwan winces. “You’re still bleeding.”

“This won’t stop it.”

“It will.”

“It won’t.”

Instead of answering, Mingyu tears another piece of his shirt away and goes for Seungkwan’s other hand, still raw and exposed around the knuckles. Light glints off the sweat lining his chest every time he breathes, the orange glow of the coming sunset reflecting along his neck. Seungkwan wonders if they can afford to sit here much longer, knowing they must have been followed further, but he’s too tired to move his legs. Somehow, he can’t tear his eyes from Mingyu.

The coarse cloth abrades his skin, and he immediately makes out a cluster of red dots blooming through the fabric. This is begging for an infection. Maybe he’ll die this way, when they’re only a few days from finishing their journey, and leave Mingyu to fend for himself all alone. Serves him right. Mingyu tears off another piece, and the small surprised sound that rolls off his lips grabs Seugnkwan’s attention.

“What…?” In his hand is the loop of his shirt’s collar, and in the swirled ribbon of cloth on his palm, something smaller. Black and rigid, like an insect. A tiny red light blinks intermittently, like a firefly floating through a summer night. Seungkwan breathes out a pained laugh.

“I knew it,” he says.

He reaches his half-bandaged hand forward to grab the thing out of Mingyu’s hand. They must’ve sewn it into the collar of Mingyu’s shirt, so light that he would never notice. A technological marvel, really, so effective despite its size. It must cost a lot of money to produce something like this. Seungkwan pinches it hard between his thumb and forefinger until he feels a snap and crushes it like an insect. When he parts his fingertips, the light is no longer blinking. He wipes the remains of it into the dirt.

“What was that?” Mingyu asks, reclaiming Seungkwan’s hand for bandaging. “A tracking bug?”

“Maybe,” Seungkwan says. “I think it had a mic. They must’ve figured you might tail me.”

“How?” Mingyu looks like he wants to scratch his head, but his hands are preoccupied, so he just lowers his eyebrows. “I could’ve worn any shirt.”

“They bugged them all,” Seungkwan says. Mingyu looks up at him.

“They did?” His voice is so naively small.

“Well, I didn’t see them do it,” Seungkwan says, “but I’m sure they did.” He breathes out hard when Mingyu tightens the next layer of cloth. “It’s not like they couldn’t. Nobody could stop them.”

“I see,” Mingyu says. He sounds like he doesn’t quite see at all, but at the same time like he’s finally managed to get his eyes to open. His hands move slow wrapping the strip of shirt around Seungkwan’s hand. Just barely, Seungkwan can see his shoulders shake.

“They must’ve guessed,” Seungkwan says, “that you would want to see Joshua again.” Pain laces his next breath out. “You spent too much time around us. If you hadn’t—”

“I don’t care,” Mingyu says.

“Huh?”

“I don’t care what would’ve happened. I don’t want to hear it.” He levels his gaze at Seungkwan, and those eyes burn like nothing else. “It’s too late.”

Seungkwan exhales. Inside his lungs, he can feel something shaking. “You wanted to see Joshua that bad, huh?”

“Why do you think this is about Joshua?”

“Isn’t it about him?”

“It’s not.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Even now,” Mingyu says, crossing his arms, “you still don’t trust me.” He leans in, frowning. “I know you think I’m an idiot, but I’m not.” He presses a finger into Seungkwan’s chest. “I came with you on purpose.”

“And why?” Seungkwan nearly jumps when he hears that he’s whispering, but his voice won’t go any louder. “Why did you come with me?”

“I don’t want to lose anybody else,” Mingyu says.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Several moments roll by in half-shutter speed, and all Mingyu does is stare at Seungkwan. It’s darker now, nearly a full plunge into night, but the last rays of sun dance along Mingyu’s skin forever. He stretches his arms overhead, then curls on his side, away from Seungkwan.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “I’m tired of talking.”

Seungkwan stares at his back until everything fades into navy blackness, traces the outline of the spine running parallel to the earth. It’s never long before Mingyu is half-snoring, no matter how hot and sticky the air is, and now is no exception. Reclining to his back beside him, Seungkwan notices the red spots on his knuckles have finally stopped spreading and sighs. Eyes on the underbelly of the trees, peeking through the leaves at stars that aren’t there, he thinks Mingyu truly is an idiot.

Even after the sun has set completely, the heat is suffocating, and Mingyu is agonizingly close. Seungkwan pushes him off and grimaces at the feel of sweat from Mingyu’s bare chest coating his hand. Mingyu groans quietly, then his breath catches on something. Seungkwan feels it change at the back of his neck, hears Mingyu shift his weight in the grass.

“Seungkwan,” he says.

“What?”

“Stop pushing me away.”

“It’s hot.”

“That’s not it.”

Silence hangs between them, interrupted only by the distant singing of crickets. Seungkwan can still smell a hint of the smoke from their fire earlier, the final remains of the second-to-last match in the box. It’s a good thing they only have two days left of this. He’s not sure he can hold on much longer. The shadow of Mingyu’s hand hovering behind his back is at potent as a real touch, electrifying in all the worst ways.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Seungkwan says.

“You do.” Mingyu’s fingertips touch down on Seungkwan’s spine, earthquakes through the filthy fabric of his shirt. “Even though it’s been days since we got rid of the bug, you still won’t tell me anything.”

Seungkwan takes a deep breath in and tries to make out the outline of a tree ten feet away. Against the black of the sky, it’s impossible. “You never know who’s listening,” he says. “We still have to be careful.”

“Nobody’s here.” Mingyu’s hand migrates to Seungkwan’s shoulder, and before he’s had time to think, Mingyu jerks him around to bring them face to face. Their noses are only inches apart, and Mingyu’s eyes glow something starry. “It’s just me. Just us.” He doesn’t move, but Seungkwan feels like the whole world is melting away beneath them. “We’re alone.”

Maybe he has a point. Even the government couldn’t grow microphones into the trees. For the past few days, he hasn’t felt anything off, but his stomach still can’t settle down. Beneath the stars and trees, two bodies clinging so close together they almost seem like one connected being, whispered voices a hush under the evening sounds. There is no purer way to say words, no safer way to be heard, but Seungkwan feels like he is crumbling. The scabs on his knuckles itch.

“We only have two days left,” Seungkwan whispers. “We’re almost there.”

“And then?”

“And then we see Joshua again.”

A sigh heaves itself off Mingyu’s lips. “Always Joshua,” he says. “Stop making everything about him.”

“Everything is about him.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Am I wrong?” Seungkwan’s arm starts to tingle under his weight, stinging its way toward sleep. “You left… you were safe, and you came after me and begged me to let you chase him.” He jerks his chin forward, and grass scrapes against his cheek. “What was that then?”

“It wasn’t about chasing him,” Mingyu breathes. “It was about running.” Far away, the crickets don’t relent. “With you.”

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“How do you think it feels,” Mingyu says, “to see someone disappear like that? And not know anything?” His breath shakes between words. “How many times am I supposed to just watch it happen?”

Seungkwan’s chest is tight. He spends a long time thinking about what he should say next, but there is no right answer. There never is, even when there so obviously should be, and here, on the floor of the forest, strips of air dancing slim between them, nothing is sure. Mingyu is looking right at him—Seungkwan can make that out in the dark, at least. Mingyu is looking at him, and he is sure of almost nothing else right now.

“How did you know,” he whispers, “to look for me?”

“I had a hunch.” Mingyu’s hand still planted on Seungkwan’s shoulder weighs as much as half a universe. “I went out every night to see if I would catch you.” He flicks his eyes up like he’s looking for something. “I saw the smoke.”

“You went every night, but you didn’t think of bringing anything?”

“Well, maybe I didn’t think that far.”

Seungkwan snorts. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m not.”

“How are you not?”

“I’m here,” Mingyu says. “With you. And we made it.”

“We haven’t made it yet.”

“But we will.”

“You don’t know—”

“Who can stop us?” Almost aggressive in his gentleness, Mingyu eases closer. Seungkwan would dare to say he can feel his lips moving the air. “There’s nobody else. Nobody is listening.”

“You’re too optimistic.”

“Sometimes it’s okay to be.”

Their voices sink into the hum of the evening, melt into the blades of grass and seep down into the dirt below them, and Mingyu doesn’t move an inch. Slowly, Seungkwan’s legs begin to buzz their way to numbness.

“I can’t stand you,” he says. Mingyu chuckles, something hushed.

“If that were true, you would’ve left me to die while I was sleeping.” Light twinkles in his eyes when he smiles, and Seungkwan doesn’t know where it’s even coming from. Maybe from somewhere in Mingyu himself. “You like having me around.”

Seungkwan takes a pause to absorb the accusation. Though his hands are healing fine now, he can still feel the lingering tightness of Mingyu’s shirt wrapped in strips around them. In his ears, there’s still the terrible echo of fish scales being scraped off, the soft and incessant pluck of feathers. He’s not sure how to process all of it still sticking so close around him, how to make sense of the jittery calm in his lungs.

“Maybe.”

In the ensuing silence, Mingyu pulls himself forward that final fatal inch and puts his lips to Seungkwan’s. There is a softness hiding beneath the grime that Seungkwan doesn’t mind. He sees everything around them in the single second Mingyu kisses him, stars and trees and high-dancing clouds in the navy-black sky. Between them, there is nothing. All that exists in the world is the two of them, breathing words into each other’s skin that even the grass could not possibly hear.

Joshua looks so clean it makes Seungkwan’s skin itch just to see him. His eyes are wide when he notices Mingyu, but they soften to a smile as the two of them near the table where he sits. His hair is shorter than Seungkwan remembers, but maybe he just doesn’t remember as well as he thought. Joshua looks down at his watch like it’s going to tell him something.

“I thought you’d be here sooner,” he says. A trail of steam curls off the coffee in front of him and sinks into his coat.

“Well, I would’ve been,” Seungkwan says. He sits down instead of explaining why, and Mingyu follows suit, plopping into the chair with a clang so loud it scares off a few birds that had been sitting on the canopy.

“Great to see you, Mingyu,” Joshua says, eyes crinkling madly in a grin. He seems so smug, but maybe it’s only because Seungkwan doesn’t remember what sleeping in a bed feels like.

Mingyu returns his most award-winning smile despite the oil slicking his hair. “I could say the same.”

“I had a feeling you might come along.”

“Really?”

“Well, just a feeling.” He sips the coffee, and his nose wrinkles a little. Still pretending to like it, Seungkwan guesses. Joshua nods his chin forward. “I knew Seungkwan wouldn’t be able to leave you behind if you asked him.”

Seungkwan coughs. “And how’s that?”

“Sometimes I just know things.” Joshua shrugs. “You like Mingyu too much to let him die.”

“The hell I do.”

“Well, he’s alive, isn’t he?”

“I am,” Mingyu says. He grins at Seungkwan. “Very alive.”

“Just tell us what you’ve been up to,” Seungkwan says, steering his gaze away from Mingyu’s overly giddy eyes. “Catch us up.”

“Sure.” Joshua folds his hands and checks his watch one more time. Seungkwan notices now that it’s ticking. The sound of it is so unfamiliar. “But first, I think we need to clean you guys up.” There’s a cattish touch of mischief to the way he smiles that Seungkwan hates just as much as he’s missed it. “I didn’t want to say it, but you look pretty rough.”

The sun crosses into its noon high while they follow Joshua down the road to his lodging. Even the roads here are built a little different, zoned a way that makes them disorienting, though it could just be the fatigue setting in. It’s a comfort not to see uniformed soldiers strutting around in blocks, at least. Mingyu’s elbow bumps against Seungkwan’s as they meander down the path, and he notices how far ahead Joshua has sped in front of them. His mind wants to catch up, but his legs can’t manage it.

“You can shower first,” Mingyu tells him.

“Damn right I can.” Seungkwan blinks, wipes sweat from his forehead while they pass under a patch of shade. His eyes dart to Mingyu. “Thanks, I mean.”

Mingyu’s laugh reverberates off the buildings lining the street, and Seungkwan nearly slaps a hand across his mouth before he remembers he doesn’t have to anymore. Far in front, Joshua turns around to look back and watch them come. Seungkwan imagines he must be smiling.

Surely they look strange from that distance. From where he stands looking at them, their bodies bathed in shadow, they might almost look like they’re connected, at the wrist or somewhere else, lumbering clumsily up the walk on too many legs, ringing with upbeat noise. They must look like they’re moving so slowly they’re going nowhere at all. Four legs and four arms and one single body, shuffling their way forward on unfamiliar pavement, frozen in time and hurling forward at lightning speed in the very same breath.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!! and thanks to hozier for singing. truth be told, i think there's something much more romantic to the song than i was able to capture here, but i think the core of the song and the core of this fic line up well enough. anyway, i had a good time writing this fic, and it's a sort of thing i've been interested in writing for a while, so i'm glad i got the chance to do it. viva la gyuboo, the ultimate tom and jerry couple, and i hope next time i write them it's a little more lighthearted. once again, thanks so much for reading, and i hope you were able to enjoy despite everything. thanks again, hozier!!


End file.
